Miscalculation
by RaspberryDevil
Summary: "Hey, Endou? What would you do if you're not the cause of it? If other teams are starting to lose it and your love for the sport can't help them? Where's your optimism then?" / It's time for the next FFI. The preliminaries are over and on Liocott, the matches are starting to get serious. But it would be too easy if things went according to plan, wouldn't it?
1. Prologue

A/N: Ah, I finally did it. This story idea is at least around two years old, yet I never wrote more than this prologue. I never had much motivation to finish it but then I dreamt that I continued and thought – why not give it a try? I write too much romance lately anyway, need some difference for a change. Yet I probably won't write/update regularly for it, it's an... uh... experiment?

Have fun?

* * *

"Mark? Are you all right?" "Ah, yes." For a short moment, not even a blink of an eye, the captain of Unicorn appeared hesitant, almost absent for the lack of better observation. Dylan was aware that Mark had been preoccupied the whole day or rather since they were on Liocott Island. His eyes always wandered around, his hands were never still and all in all he looked like a mess. A paranoid mess, to be precisely. "Sure 'bout that?" Dylan looked at his friend and Captain, concern hiding behind his glasses. It was rare to see him like that – or was he just nervous? Scared to lose an important match and to fail as a Captain? Dylan knew that Mark thought it was his fault that they lost last time, that he did the wrong thing and felt terrible for not realising Kazuya's sickness sooner. But it wasn't. He had assured him that many times now. Maybe not often enough. Or did his words not count at all? "I'm really fine, Dylan." He didn't believe him but was also aware that it was no use to get a confession from him right now. He could be surprisingly stubborn at times. Mark, on the other hand, was thankful that his friend cared about him, that he wanted to help him when he saw that Mark wasn't feeling well. But he couldn't tell him. Not now. It would be too much of a burden for his friend so he rather carried it all by himself. Just a little while longer.

"Fideo?" The young Captain flinched when Marco approached him from behind. "Are you okay? You were staring absently." Fideo laughed lightly, covering his embarrassment, before he smiled at his teammate. "Ah, I'm fine." "Well, if you say so." Marco furrowed his brow, not believing his captain a single word. It was suspicious how the brunet acted ever since they were on this island. It was just the third day but his behaviour was far worse than on the first one. They – not just Marco, also the other one felt his odd behaviour – caught him starring out of the window while breakfast, realised his desperate tries to be mentally present during practise and saw as well as felt his misleading comments on the field. But even so Fideo was capable to be stubborn at times when it was uncalled for and they knew that the wouldn't tell them anything at this moment. The case with Kageyama last time proved as much. And not even Hide was able to reach him then.

"Rococo!" Well, this was bad. Goushu thought that his Captain would turn around and catch the ball when he heard his name, though instead he was hit by it at the back of his head and fell on his knees. "Idiot, what were you thinking?", Windy asked the striker when he knelt worriedly next to their goalkeeper on the ground. "I just wanted to drag him out of his daydreaming", he murmured guiltily before he went to get an ice pack. "You okay?" Windy lay a hand on his Captain's shoulder, waiting for the right moment to pull him up. The goalkeeper needed a second before he registered his question and finally nodded. "It's fine", he said eventually when the concern of the other one grew, asking Windy to help him up. Under his watchful eyes, he scanned his legs, trying to tap of the dirt. Windy looked at the scrapped knee, wondering why the other one didn't even flinch when his hands touched the small wound. "Come, sit down, I'll clean it." "It's nothing. We receive much more damage during training." "Rococo!" Now he did flinch, surprised by his friend's harsh tone. "I'm not asking question, neither of us is. If you don't feel like telling us what's wrong with you, we'll accept that. But don't act like nothing is wrong." Rococo's eyes widened, hit by the truth of these words. "I... thank you. I'm sorry", he mumbled, lowering his head. And Windy had no idea what to say, so he lead him to the bench and started to take care of his wounds.

"Something wrong, Edgar?" The Captain of England's national team turned around when he heard Philip's voice. "You've realised it too, didn't you? The odd behaviour of the other Captains?" The blond seemed to ponder but eventually, he nodded. "Is it that bad already?", he asked, unsure what to think of it as it was nothing he was used to. "I'm not quite sure yet. Do me a favour and keep an eye on them." The concern of his Captain surprised the young boy at first, was it a side he didn't see often from his friend – not that the was cold-hearted, he just thought more about his own people than the ones of other teams first. So his nod was rather hesitant, though enough to show his understanding. "Yes."

"Teres?" The goalkeeper of The Empire turned with slight irritation to his Captain who allowed more balls than usual to pass him – not that he'd complain, as long as he, the goalkeeper, stopped them. "I have the feeling that this years FFI will have similar problems than the last one", Teres said eventually, facing his teammate who expected every answer despite this one. It confused him, all irritation he possessed slide aside. "What are you talking about?" "I'm not quite sure yet, but do me a favour and be careful, Ortega." "Why?" Was there a reason to worry this much? "Because other teams are already affected."

"Roniejo? Did you call me for a reason?" Lagarto sought his Captain out as soon as one player had told him that he was waiting for him. He didn't knew why Roniejo didn't come to him directly, but this question was irrelevant as he was standing by his side. "The time has come", the striker said, turning towards the defender who was surprised by his sudden determinate expression. "Which one?" "To pay back our debt. The others are in trouble, I can feel it." He seemed to understand, or was at least starting to makes sense of his words. And there was only one question now which needed to be asked. "Will you help them just like Inazuma Japan helped us?"

"You can bet on it."


	2. Opening Ceremony

A/N: It's a short chapter, I'm sorry. Anyway, in regards to a guest's suggestion: Sorry guys, no Oc submission! There are a lot of canon characters to choose from, they won't be necessary ;3

Have fun! :3

* * *

"Welcome to this year's Football Frontier International. There are a lot of questions to be asked. What kind of great matches will we see? Can Inazuma Japan defend its title? My name is Maxter Land. And to my right sits Levin Murdoch who will act as a commentator this year again. Glad to have you here."

"Glad to be here. It's always a pleasure."

"Let's focus on the most important people – our participants."

"A lot of talented people will show us their skills again. The preliminaries granted just the strongest a ticket to these rounds."

"And here they are. The first one to enter is Argentina's team and their Captain Teres Tolue. Look at them and the strength they show."

"Let's hope that it is more than just a show. And here are our all time favourites, The Kingdom. These dancers have shown great matches until now with their unique style."

"Followed by Cotarl. From the black horse to favourites, we can't wait to see what they'll do this year. Will they be our champions?"

"Don't forget our gentlemen from England, Queen's Knight. What will they surprise us with this time?"

"Also someone who could surprise us is Rose Griffon whose matches were always splendid."

"And Germany. Will they claim the title of the best?"

"But maybe it's Italy with its Captain Fideo. Last year, the chance for the final was taken by them but there is always a second one. Hidetoshi assist as a player from the beginning this time, this'll be interesting."

"And there are the reigning champions, Inazuma Japan. Can someone claim their throne?"

"Maybe our next team from Spain. The final was within reach last year, let's hope the best for them."

"And the last one to enter is Unicorn. Again, they are supported by more than one great player."

"I feel nostalgic. There were just few changes made in the teams if I'm not mistaken."

"Ah yes, we have a similar start-up than last year. Just a few players didn't make it and were exceeded by other talents."

"Or are too old. But this means that we see them bloom at other tournaments."

The introduction of the teams was underlined by the crowd's cheers, still echoing trough the stadium as the commentators' voice stopped. The teams were lined up, the Captain of each carrying a flag while a projection of their emblem was hovering above their heads. It was as spectacular as ever. The players who already experienced this feeling were as taken aback as the last time, still overwhelmed by this amount of people who were here because they wanted to see their matches. Who came all the way to see them. It filled them with pride. Yet there was a feeling which didn't belong to such a joyous event. Teres looked to his left, his glance passing Roniejo and resting on Rococo. His whole body language was tense, far from anticipation the games, his glance directed stubbornly towards the front. It was rather strange. He reluctantly turned away again when Díaz, a brown haired sturdy defender, tapped his shoulder, signalising him to focus on the things happening in front of him – their fans who applauded them. Every time it was somehow special to see this view and Teres couldn't deny that it left him with a feeling of satisfaction. They made it here again, stood on the same field as other great international players. Finally they would see how far their training brought them and how far the others got. It was time. These rounds were going to be different than the preliminaries. After this opening ceremony, they had barely a day left to train and prepare for their first match. And there was also an issue which bothered him since he came to this island; the odd behaviour of some other Captains – Rococo was one of them. But tomorrow was their first match.

Then he would see with his own eyes what was happening.

* * *

"What a wonderful morning. Yesterday's opening ceremony had been as fantastic as always. And the first match to open this year's FFI will begin in a few minutes", Murdoch started with enthusiasm, more than eager to see this year's talents. Last year showed him how much he loved this sport after all and seeing the young generation sharing the same feelings was refreshing, reminded him of the times when he used to play with his comrades. "What can you say about today's teams?" Maxter was less enthusiastic nevertheless looking forward to this first match which would give them a taste of the future matches. "Well, Argentina did a really good job at keeping their reputation as an iron wall. But the same goes for Cotarl." "Right. Rococo showed his qualities as a goalkeeper and that he won't go down against his opponents." Murdoch nodded though felt compelled to add his own thoughts. "But Argentina's offensive is also quite strong. We'll see."

While the men shared their thoughts, the players were warming up, getting used to the grass under their feet. It wasn't time to stand in line yet, nevertheless Teres walked towards Rococo who was discussing something with Goushu though stopped when he saw him approaching them. "Let this be a good game." Outstretching his hand, Teres wished Rococo good luck, however he just received a blank stare before Rococo turned wordlessly around and stepped on the field, position himself in the goal. Goushu, so that it doesn't attract attention, took his hand instead and shook it. "Yes, I hope so. And do us a favour..." Leaning forward, the ace striker whispered the last words in his ear before he let go of his hand and followed Rococo, leaving a dumbstruck Teres behind. "Captain?" Diego, a small forward with black hair which was styled into an afro, looked up to his Captain, confusion visible despite his closed eyes. Teres ignored his concern, turning around to warm up with the other guys. "Let's do our best."

"What did you tell him?" Windy threw a suspicious glance at Goushu but the forward just shrugged. "Nothing." Windy saw trough the lie though knew better than to say something. Instead his glance shifted to Rococo who was holding Drago's shoots as if it was mere child's play. The defender thought back to the conversation he had with their coach, his concern because Rococo's sudden change of behaviour. Daisuke didn't care, or at least thought that it was something which would pass on its own. Windy wasn't so sure of that. He wanted to win, just like his Captain but he had the feeling that something else was driving him, a motivation he couldn't grasp. And that was the reason why he – just for a moment in a state of utter confusion – hoped to lose, considered it to be the best solution for whatever needed to be solved. And then the whistle sounded, announcing the start. Lining up, the teams bowed down, followed by a simultaneous "Let this be a good match". The handshakes which followed after that were forced, but nobody of his team but Teres realised it. They were far too nervous.

"The kick-off begins with Cotarl. But Argentina doesn't just stand around."

Both sides fought fiercely even though it looked like Cotarl wasn't using its full strength. Yet The Empire had a hard time defending against them – not that they let any ball trough during the first half-time. The defenders Julio, a big young man with an orange afro like hairstyle and Martines, a slim and tall player with black hair, did their best to prevent them from coming near the goal. "Their defence is as tough as usual", one could hear Maxter say. "Wish I could say the same about Cotarl", Edgar, who was seated among the crowd with his teammates, mumbled. "What are you talking about?" Philip dragged his glance from the game to lock at his Captain, just to face the game again when Edgar gestured him to. "Look closely. There are a few slips." He was right. Just barely visible actions which allowed them to pass trough. "I wonder... Is this why they don't use their tactic Andes' Antlion Death Trap?", Philip said, eyes glued to the scene, observing the moment of the players. "Probably. Since they need seven players, leaving even one member of Little Giant uncovered could result in a tactical error, especially since they haven't used their full strength yet." And despite of them holding back, neither Diego nor Leone could get past the goalkeeper who – to everyone's surprise - used a special technique during the first match. It was every affirmation Teres needed to know that there was something wrong with this Football Frontier, more so than ever. "Teres?" Diaz's resolve didn't falter, his referring to the Captain just to affirm that they shared the same goal. And it helped Teres to focus, shouting orders to his teammates. "Tighten the defence." Despite of their try to interfere, Little Gigant's passes connected smoothly. "Maxi takes up the ball and dribbles forward. Oh, what's that? Three people are marking Teres while Maxi takes the ball to Goushu and then Drago." Their speed seemed to overwhelm them.

And then it happened.

"There it is, a niche in the iron wall." It was a stupid mistake but it happened. And hadn't Goushu used it, it would have been obvious that they didn't try their best. "Here we go", he said, passing trough the defence and standing in front of the goal after receiving the ball from Drago. "Fire Tornado!" "Million hands!" Ortega wasn't going down that easily. They climbed the wall but he was going to push them down again. Unfortunately, even this amount of hands weren't able to stop him and he was send back against the net. "Finally. During the second half-time, a long awaited goal was scored. There are still 25 minutes left. Will Argentina use that or does Cotarl take the lead?" "Don't mind. We'll get that point back", Diego assured their goalkeeper, trying to sound optimistic. At this point, The Empire realised what Teres had all along – Little Gigant wasn't playing with enjoyment. But where did this pressure, as it seemed to them, came from? "All right, the next goal is ours", Teres told his teammates, rather reassuring himself than them.

It was the first and the last goal during that match.

Argentina's wall was as hard to climb as Cotarl's which was consisting of only one man. The bitter truth: It was over before it began. The whistle was like a well hit punch to their stomach. Teres had been so preoccupied with their behaviour that he had forgot to lead his team with his full attention; yet he wasn't blamed. "We still have games ahead of us. Let us do our best then", Ortega had announced after the teams glanced at the score, not sure what to say otherwise. When Teres looked at Little Giant's player, he saw disappointment which was mostly interpreted as sadness over this low score by the crowd. But Teres knew better, yet he was confused as he recalled Goushu's words in his head. Why would he say something like that? It seemed like he wasn't approving of Rococo's thinking – whatever it was – but why was he and some other of the team doing it nevertheless, following his order? The only conclusion he came to was that it wasn't the whole team which seem to be influenced though intimidated enough to keep quiet. He needed to talk with Edgar. They had shared their thoughts about this before as they meet after the opening ceremony, the concern both had as they observed the other's. Rococo. Fideo. Mark. It was rather confusing. Trying to make sense of Goushu's words, he repeated them over and over again. The word's rang in his head when he shook his opponent's hand, congratulating them while an unspoken sorry hung between them. When he left the fields to the changing room, taking a shower afterwards. And when he was lying in his bed, preventing him to get his sleep.

"_Don't allow us to win."_

**_tbc_**

* * *

A/N: The scores in these story are all going to be based on real ones which happened during various championships or normal games between countries. Since Cotarl doesn't exist though, I decided to use the scores of Kamerun. This match is based on the World Cup 1990, in which – to everyone's surprise – Kamerun won during the opening ceremony against Argentina, the reigning world champion.


	3. First Suspicions

_A/N: I did a Cover image because last time I accidently uploaded the first chapter to the wrong story because both start with "Mis" and so this shouldn't happen again. I hope so... Anyway, I wanted to finish this for the World Cup or at least the finals, but somehow... well, if you read the chapter you might realise why I waited... Have fun?_

* * *

"So... Rococo won after all."

The member's of Inazuma Japan were in the dining hall, meal finished and now chatting with their seating neighbour until Endou's statement attracted their attention. "Didn't you believe in him?" Kazemaru had the feeling that his captain's words carried a hint of doubt, an uncertainty which seemed rather odd coming from their optimist. Crossing his arms in front of his chest and slightly tilting his head, the goalkeeper seemed to wonder how he should describe his feeling, though in the end he just shook his head. "No, not exactly. It's just... I can't really describe it."

"Then don't think too hard about it!"

Every single person turned towards the door as they heard the all too familiar voice. "Tsunami?!" "Surprised to see me?" That would be an understatement. He was one of the last people they expected, after all he wasn't able to participate due to his age. "Of course", Kogure started, "You are – " "I know, I know. But I can't let you go alone. I will assist you as a manager", he told them with fervency. "Really?" "Of course." He grinned, fist tapping against his chest. "Leave it to me and the girls." "Isn't much of a difference", Fudou muttered in the background. Nobody seemed to have it heard though or chose to ignore it, in Sakuma's case. "So today was only one match. Otherwise there are two per day, right?" Taking a seat between Tachimukai and Toramaru, the oldest boy informed himself a bit, mostly because his fear of flying prevented him from doing so during the flight. "Yes. It can vary though due to certain circumstances", Megane explained, pushing up his glasses. He assumed that Tsunami simply forgot him, after all he wasn't a girl, but he wouldn't accuse him of anything – nevertheless he won't give up his position.

He was ignored.

"Tomorrow plays Orpheus?" Hiroto nodded. "Against Brazil. It'll be a good match." The team agreed and nobody doubted the upcoming suspense the match would bring about. "I can't wait to see his match. Hide is going to play from the beginning." And now even Endou forgot his own uneasiness, hands clenched, determination in his eyes as if he was going to play himself tomorrow, certainly feeling as excited as the teams which were actually going to play. "Since you are ready to go, use the rest of the afternoon for some practise." "Yes, Coach Kudou", was the collective answer before the team stood up, heading towards the training fields without anyone needing to tell them twice.

As they stood outside in front of the building, Kidou stopped in his tracks, looking around. "Kidou? Are you coming?", Sakuma who was the only one who realised his sudden halt, asked. "Give me a moment." He had a feeling that someone was observing him, so – as soon as Sakuma hesitantly went to the field – he turned around and, indeed, found a familiar boy in an Italian track suit standing nearby.

They guy who once looked like his twin, of what he used to be.

In bewilderment, he approached the boy. "Demonio? You're playing for Orphues?!" He shook his head, a small yet sad smile on his lips. "Hello, Kidou. No, I act as a manager. I haven't fully recovered yet. But hopefully next time." They let it slide, didn't dare to speak of it further, the past a topic they didn't feel like discussing. "Did you came here to tell me that?" He shook his head again. "No. I'm worried about Fideo. He intends to win and also shows it, but at the same time, he... doesn't seem to want to win." Kidou heard the slight desperate tone in his voice, the concern about a friend obviously present. "Thank you for telling me. I'll keep an eye on him." "If it doesn't trouble you." A genuine smile found its way on his lips, even though it was small. "Not at all." "Thank you." He bowed before he left, not looking back once despite of Kidou's eyes following him till another voice reached his ears. "Conspiring with the enemy?" "Fudou." He spoke the name with a warning edge, though the other one just smirked, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "Don't worry, I won't tell." Kidou believed him, just because he was able to read his expression by now, glancing past his mask. "Be watchful as well."

"As you wish, Kidou-kun."

* * *

"Another day, another match. Orpheus versus The Kingdom, who is going to win?"

"The clash of two favourites, this is going to be very interesting and there is no way to predict this outcome."

"Indeed, Murdoch, there is nothing else to add."

"It's been a while, Fideo. I'm looking forward to this match." They shook their hands, but Roniejo could feel that he wasn't really paying it any mind. His gaze shifted to Hidetoshi, searching for an explanation; he didn't return his glance. He hadn't been lying when he said that he awaited the match but from the look of his opponent's faces, they didn't seem to share his attitude. "Roniejo?" Largato must have realised something as well, but his captain just shook his head. "Be on your guard, Lagarto. That is all." Not doubting that there must be a reason for his friend's carefulness, he nodded, before it was time for the team to line up. The crowd was already cheering. After the opening match, they couldn't wait to see what was going to happen next. Nothing was certain, everything could happen.

The game started with Orpheus' kick-off.

"Italy is in the possession of the ball and they don't hesitate long."

Roniejo thought that they'd use team play but nothing like that happened. It was a play based around Fideo and Hidetoshi, their passes connecting without trouble as they moved along the field, breaking trough their defence. They did have trouble at first, twenty minutes passing without getting closer to the goal, yet they kept the ball in their possession. Whenever Roniejo's team got the ball, their middle field which was strengthened (a change in the line-up neither understood) recaptured the ball which was immediately brought up to Fideo or Hidetoshi. And much to the striker's surprise, they didn't use their special tactic. 'It's based around Fideo however won't function without their teamwork... is this something he can't let happen?', Roniejo wondered, blocking Hidetoshi so that their flow was interrupted; it wasn't as effective as he hoped that it would be.

"Fideo isn't called The White Meteor for nothing. Look how he makes it to the goal on his own."

There was no hesitation in his play, no doubt, yet it was different from his usual movements on the field – nevertheless he scored. "I'm sorry, it took me by surprise." Falcão was angry at himself. Italy was a strong team and they had to do their best, no ifs and buts. From the beginning they were aware that they mustn't underestimate their opponents, anything else would have been a mistake. Now he knew that he hadn't been prepared, but he swore that he wouldn't allow this to happen again.

The first half was almost over when the situation which happened before the first goal was recreated. Lagarto, however, with the intention to prevent another goal, made it just in time, coming between their goalkeeper and Fideo. He tried to steal his ball, but the brunet was quick and easily dodged his attempts – not the foot though which caused him to stumble and fall. The whistle followed and the decision after the yellow card wasn't doubted.

A penalty kick.

The defender helped Fideo to his feet again, apologising, though the brunet shook his head and said that he was fine – he wasn't but Lagarto knew that it wasn't because of the fall. "I'm sorry", he apologised again, this time directed at Falcão. "Don't worry. I'll hold the shot." He wanted to add that he can count on him, but this would mean that he didn't take Fideo seriously – and again, this would be a terrible mistake.

Even though he was prepared, he was no match for the Italian. "Goal! Fideo did it, he extended their lead." The crowd cheered and despite of The Kingdom's attempts, everyone was sure that this was the score with which the first half was going to end.

They were wrong.

"3:1, what a misery. Orpheus was leading but due to a mistake during the defence, Hidetoshi redirected the ball. This is something I never expected to happen", Maxter announced while the goalkeeper still looked like he couldn't believe his teammate's action. There was no accusation in his glance, just confusion. "Forgive me, I should have been more careful." "Don't worry, Hide. We'll get this point back." Angelo tried to sound cheerful, rather because Fideo was looking at Hide with an unreadable expression. It had been a while between them like this, their silence despite of their flawless teamwork, but nobody dared to ask.

A few minutes after that, the first half ended.

Orpheus didn't seem as happy as they should have been. Instead, they remained silent on their way to the changing rooms after the whistle sounded across the field. This was the moment in which Roniejo decided that there was only one person he could ask about his uneasiness, and this was Hidetoshi. So he cornered him during the half-time. "Hide." The former Captain wasn't really happy to see him, but Roniejo ignored this. "I know, until now you solved your problems on your own till it wasn't possible any more. And I think now is this moment." "I don't know what you –" "This own goal was on purpose." Roniejo didn't even try to make it sound like a question, his firmness causing the Japanese to sigh in defeat. "What do you want to know?" "What's wrong with Fideo?" Of course, any other question would have been a waste of time."I don't know. During practise he seemed like he wasn't able to play at all but when coach wanted him to sit this match out, he refused." "And now he plays like that?" "Yes. I do want to win this match. But I asked myself if it was better that we don't." "Excuse me?" "I don't feel good proposing this, but if I have to make the choice between this kind of game with it's unknown consequences and my proposal, I won't hesitate."

"I'm all ears."

* * *

While the teams rested and the crowd couldn't wait for the second half, some other players were as suspicious as Roniejo had been.

"Both are pressured, I wonder why", Kidou mused, drawing Sakuma's attention. "Whatever it is, this match doesn't really count as showing their real strength." Before Kidou could say anything in return, Fudou snorted. "What? Want to say anything?" They might get along better now, though this didn't mean that Sakuma appreciated his comments or that Fudou stopped to comment on things he said in general. "I don't know if you're watching the same match as we do, but it's obvious that Fideo does do his best" "But their team play –" "– is not everything. Hide balances out whatever mistakes their might be due to their change in tactics. But I'm sure you already knew that." "He's right." Kidou's agreement caught Sakuma off guard. "What?" "Hide supports him, and yet..." "And yet he made an own goal on purpose", Fudou finished his sentence and while it should anger Sakuma that he – again – interrupted their conversation, he was too surprised by the apparent fact itself. "But why would he do that?" "I have no idea. Let's watch this game until the end, maybe we'll figure it out."

"Yes."

* * *

"Lagarto." The stern expression of his captain came as a surprise even though he should have expected that when he thought back to the conversation they had as the sought his support. "Yes?" "I have to miss." "What?" At first he thought that he hadn't heard correctly, but Roniejo didn't look like he was joking. "As soon as our score is tied, I mustn't shoot." "But –" "This means I'm counting on you." It was the first time since they rebelled against Garshield that he had no idea what Roniejo was doing. "But if you want to keep the score tied, why not shift the centre of our defence?" "Because this would mean that they suspect that we might know something", he explained, causing Lagarto to narrow his eyes. "Who is they?" "I don't know yet. But a tie is the only way to minimise the danger." They looked at each other for a moment, until the defender gave up, a determined expression on his face. "You can count on me." "It will put a lot of strain on your body." "Don't worry." His resolve was also a result from his foul which caused the penalty shot, as he was blaming himself and wanted to make up for it. "All right. Thank you." "Normally we'd say 'Let's win this game' but I guess it's not the right moment to say this now." Roniejo just shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. He and Hidetoshi mad no eye contact. It was their way of telling themselves that their plan – if one could call it like that – was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, let's make the best of it."

At the beginning, it looked like this half wasn't going to be different than the first. But something in Brazil's team changed, the resolve to turn the results and there was enough strength left to play Italy against the wall. The tie was achieved within the first ten minutes, yet they didn't dare to celebrate – and Fideo also gave them no time to. Despite of Hidetoshi's play which left unnoticeable openings at the first glance, Fideo made it trough the defence a few times, however Falcão was strong-willed to fulfil his duty and catch any ball directed at him. In the end, his body couldn't keep up with the pace, his stamina reaching an end. The goalkeeper was reluctant to leave the field, but he had no choice – he hated the decision of his coach even more as soon as Fideo scored the third goal. "Don't worry, the game isn't over yet", Roniejo told them, a phrase which almost lost its meaning if it wasn't for the will he still had; he wasn't going to lose this match. Fideo was also almost at the end of his strength, slowing down and giving the team more chances to conquer the ball.

"Leonardo, this is yours", the Captain shouted, kicking the ball towards the brown-haired forward who received it without much trouble. "All right. Let's go, Formiga." Without wasting another moment, their short defender was by his side, ready to perform their combined technique.

"Double Tornado."

Colosseo Guard stood no chance against the shoot and even though there were still ten minutes to play, the players knew that this was it, that whatever they might attempt now, wouldn't change the results.

Whether this was a good or a bad thing was something neither could tell.

* * *

"It was a good match." After the game was over, the whistle still ringing in their ears, Roniejo reached out his hand. This time, Fideo's reluctance was obvious. "Yeah", was his hesitant answer, eventually grabbing his hand under Hidetoshi's watchful eyes. The usual "I'm looking forward to our next game" stayed unspoken, a lie both didn't dare to utter. A continuation of this match was something neither of them wanted to experience again. Leonardo caught the bitter look of Angelo, Marco's and Gianluca's grimace as well as Blasi's disbelief.

And again, the crowed realised nothing.

**tbc**

* * *

_A/N: Tsunami is the only on of which we officially know that he would be too old for the next FFI so don't be surprised if I use the other players which you might personally consider to be over 15 by now as well. Would be to complicated if I guessed who has which age (though I consider Rococo/Teres/Dylan/Roniejo – to name a few – 15. But story plot an such). Anyway, based on the match during the "Tournoi de France" in 1997. Let me tell you, an own goal is something you never get over, it really hurts even watching them, so I'm kind of sorry for putting these guys trough that..._


	4. Allies

**A/N: Late Merry Christmas? I wanted to finish at least one chapter before the year ends. I don't know why I had so much trouble with it, the beginning had been sitting in my folder for months, but here it is. **

* * *

"You don't have to cook, you know?"

Philip ignored Lance, continued to chop the vegetable in front of him, focusing completely on the task, as if he hadn't heard the implied meaning, the demand to hear why there is such a depressing mood surrounding the camp even though nothing grave happened yet. Obviously the blond knew that he didn't have to concern himself with their dinner, after all it was a task the managers took care of. But he liked preparing their meal and it took his mind off of other things, Edgar's mild concern being just one of many, the top of his list.

"Shouldn't you rather practise?", he tried again, his helmet hiding his expression which was more curiosity than concern; not that Philip looked at him anyway.

"Edgar isn't here", was the simple reply, yet it was answer enough.

"So you're still working on this combined technique?"

"Yeah", Philip answered, realising that he wouldn't leave him alone until he talked with him, so he laid down the knife, worried that he would cut himself otherwise; he was good at what he was doing, but accidents happened all the time.

"I'm surprised that the captain would just abandon training."

Lance crossed his arms in front of his chest, happy that he finally had his whole attention, and even though he would never accuse Edgar of slacking off, he knew that he could get a reaction from the other one with this statement.

And he was right.

"It's not like that", Philip argued, though any words failed him; now Lance had him where he wanted to. The worst thing was that Philip was well aware of his attempts to get the desired information, that he was merely trying to provoke him, still, he was unable to ignore it.

"What else could be more important than improving?", he continued to interrogate him, bringing some distance between them so that the other one felt comfortable to share what he knew, giving him some space to breath.

Philip was conflicted; was he allowed to tell about his concern?

No.

They were teammates, no doubt, but he was sure that Edgar would, sooner or later, tell the whole team. Besides he had no right to do this and it also might disappoint the trust his friend put in him; at the moment, it was better to keep quiet.

"I don't know."

Lance was well aware that he lied. Philip always knew what was up with his friend, could read their captain like an open book, something not many people were capable of. But in the end he decided that it wasn't worth it, to be a bit more patient. And since there was no further statement, Philip continued with the preparations for their meal and his silence was enough for Lance to finally leave him alone.

* * *

"What did you want to talk about?"

Edgar sat at a table of a café in England's areas, across from Teres who asked him to come after their match – it sounded suspiciously like an order but Edgar had tried to ignore this because of the urgency which was also present in his voice. Being their team's captain they needed to postpone the meeting on the next day though and so it was not until Italy's match ended that they were able to meet up.

"Little Gigant", was the simple reply Edgar got, yet there was no need to explain further.

He was aware of the change, or at least that there was something wrong with the team and Teres knew that. The only question was what exactly was not right, so he urged him with a silent glance to go on, to keep from delaying the important information he sought since this tournament started and this unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach.

"They wanted to lose."

And Teres granted his silent wish, didn't hold back right off the bat, stating the truth without any nice phrasing, nevertheless Edgar doubted that this was all which explained the circumstances, so he raised an eyebrow, wanted to disagree, but Teres left him no chance.

"Goushu told me to win. And you must have seen Rococo. He was not enjoying it. Being eager is one thing but focusing on the goal without any emotions is another."

Edgar forgot that he wanted to scold Teres for interrupting him, his interest piqued by his last words, after all the goalkeeper loved the sport as much as a certain other goalkeeper who was a real – to phrase it nice – football enthusiast.

"How did the coach react?"

Teres just shook his head, keeping from voicing his disappointment.

"With no interest, as fas as I could tell."

"That's unusual."

Not that the coaches treated them like children which needed to be protected at all cost and all the time, but it was Endou's grandfather who was always the first to know when something was not like it was supposed to be and his sense of justice was not something he lost within a year.

"How do we proceed?", Edgar wanted to know, after all Teres must have had an suggestion, otherwise he wouldn't have called him; he was wrong.

"Honestly? I have no idea. Not in the slightest. We will observe the other matches and see who else shows a different behaviour. And I'm sure we won't have to wait long, unfortunately."

Not the best plan they could have, yet Edgar had no better idea, not that he needed to, because, apparently, they weren't alone in this matter any more.

"Sounds interesting. Mind if I join you?", a third voice interrupted their talk and when they looked up, they saw a familiar face in front of them

"Roniejo?"

Teres was mildly surprised as the striker sat down at their table before throwing a glance at Edgar who seemed rather displeased by his interruption but just nodded, more or less agreeing with him sitting among them.

"I was looking for you and Diaz told me I would find you here", Ronijeo explained his sudden appearance, a smile on his lips even though he wanted to frown instead.

"Why?"

The defender didn't want to sound distrustful, not after the things concerning the last frontier happened, but he couldn't help the sharp tone which entered his voice; Roniejo suspected something like that, let it slide and asked the question he came here for.

"You played against Rococo. Anything weird happened?"

"Besides the fact that Goushu told me to win? Or that Rococo was fixed on winning in a way he shouldn't? Or that neither of the other teammates were enjoying the game?"

Roniejo nodded understandingly, this being more than one good reason to prove that his own assumption weren't wrong, that there was definitely something going on which equalled the last year's situation.

"Is this about Fideo?", Edgar interrupted them, remembering seeing half of the game on the T.V. In their camp, wondering why their play seemed off..

"Yeah. Hidetoshi and I decided to even the score because we don't know what happened", he answered before he told them about the behaviour of Italian's white meteor, his play style and the reactions of his teammates; when he finished, Teres sighed.

"I can see what Spain is up to. They seemed normal during their match against France a few hours ago", he eventually proposed, on step in a possible right direction. He and the captain were good friends, even though it had been a while since they've heard about each other. He would realise whether he was acting weird as well or not, and finding out who was their ally or not seemed like the most logical choice to him right now.

"Really?"

Roniejo was surprised but supposed that this was the best they could do, still, it put them in a position which didn't favour them and their plan could backfire, resulting in them being someone's target and he really didn't want to be blackmailed again (that has to be it, there couldn't be another reason why Fideo would allow himself such a play, why he would feel pressured to win this damn match).

"Well, we play against Germany tomorrow, so I can see what Jonas' position is", Edgar mused, before he wondered what they should do about Endou, whether they should enlighten their team as well – or more likely Kidou – or keep their doubts concerning his position as well; Teres decided on that.

"Don't tell him. We can't be sure yet that his team isn't involved. We'll play against them tomorrow, so we can see what's going on with his team."

His words were just formalities because they doubted that this team would be able to get influenced by anyone, wouldn't allow this, after all Endou was more like his grandfather than one would think if you considered that their first meeting was only one year ago.

"We could also doubt you", Roniejo suddenly said, not an accusation but merely a possibility, one of many which was not to be ignored.

"But you don't", he replied, a smirk on his lips which slightly widened when he asked why Edgar was the first person outside of his his team he approached on this matter.

"Because he is to proud to be controlled by anyone."

"I take that as a compliment rather as an insult", he clicked his tongue, a small smile tugging on his lips which he covered with his cup as he took a sip, just in case; he didn't need to give him that satisfaction.

"You should."

And that settled it.

"Good luck with your match", Roniejo directed at Edgar his way of saying farewell, a phrase one simply said without any deep meaning behind it. The same went for Edgar's reply, telling him that they didn't need any luck, because "we will obviously win. They don't have a chance."

(Teres and Roniejo's laughter after that were one of the few which weren't forced.)

The question of that they were supposed to do if these teams prove to be different as well remained unspoken.

* * *

"Pierre, do you have a minute?"

France' captain wondered why Roniejo showed up at their area, but what surprised him even more was his stern expression.

"Roniejo, what can I do for you?", he asked polity, tucking a strand of his teal hair behind his ear after exchanging a short glance with an equally baffled Julien.

"You played well", he simply said, and even though it was nothing, Rose Griffon's captain gasped audible.

"Excuse-moi? Of course we did."

He seemed almost insulted – that he wasn't showed the amused gleam in Julien's eyes as well as the smile on the Captain's lips. Nevertheless Roniejo clarified his statement, to see how much he knew or didn't know, to observe his following expression.

"I meant your state of mind. You seem to play without any influence."

Another short exchange with Julien who even put the rose out of his mouth, whispering something in his ear which caused his captain to furrow his brow, yet he nodded and turned back to Roniejo.

"I don't really understand what you are trying to achieve here but might you be referring to Little Gigant and Orpheus?"

Roniejo was relieved that it seemed like he didn't have to explain everything, and he thought that this might make things a bit easier than he expected to.

"Indeed, I am"

This time it was Julien who spoke, looking in his direction but eyes lowered on the rose in his hand and whose stalk he rolled between his fingers, a smile on his lips, the question which was more like a statement directed at the both of them.

"We should have a cup of tea, don't you think?"

* * *

"And here starts the third day. It's Brocken Bogue against Knights of Queen."

"A classic. I wonder how this match ends this time. They never fail to amaze us."

The crowd cheered, was just as exited as the commentators, unaware of the things which happened on the field and in face of their ignorance, Edgar approached Brocken Bogue's Captain, earning himself some questioning glances from his teammates (aside from Lance who threw a short glance at Philip whose head was lowered, eyes on the ground and a rather thoughtful expression).

"Jonas?"

"Edgar. What can I do for you, shortly before the match starts", the captain asked, an accusing tone hiding under his question which wasn't intended; Edgar knew that it was unconsciously so he didn't address it.

"Do you have a minute?"

He looked at his forwards Maximilian and Peter, a short exchange of glances before they nodded, standing by his side while the rest of the team kept their distance out of respect and also because they needed to focus on the match and not any trivial matter outside (it wasn't anything trivial but they would learn this lesson soon enough).

"I do. What's wrong?"

"You might have realised the latest games."

He and Jonas weren't really close, didn't understand each other very well, but it didn't take him long to get what Edgar was hinting at. He sighed, arms on his hip and looking straight at him, his next words spoken without any hesitation.

"Edgar, I know that you are concerned about the outcome of this FFI, but there are things we can't influence. Shouldn't you talk to your coach about it? Or don't you trust him?"

"It's merely a suspicion."

"A valid one."

He shook his head, eyes closed before he looked at Jonas again, not even sparing the other two a second glance.

"Not valid enough. At one point we might have no other choice but now we do."

Jonas furrowed his brow, still rather unsure, and while he showed his scepticism, Maximilian's and Peter's face was rather expressionless; it seemed liked Edgar wouldn't get trough to him with these words alone, so he restored to a rather obvious possibility.

"Why don't the let this game decide. If we win, which will obviously happen, you have to listen to what we have to say."

"You're betting? On a game where you represent the hopes of all the players who didn't make it, when you're representing your country?"

Jonas was stunned, didn't even ask who was included in the "we" but he was also amused; this time even his forwards weren't able to cover their surprise.

"This should show you how serious we are."

Jonas crossed his arms in front of his chest, a smile on his lips while his eyes were shining with anticipation.

"Sure. But be careful, Edgar.

_A bet is nothing to be taken lightly_."

**tbc**

* * *

**A/N: Not going to write all games in detail, the story needs to progress. France/Spain score (0:2) is based on the European championship 2012.**

**I hope you guys have a good start into the New Year &amp; we see us in 2015 with a new chapter! Maybe I'm a bit faster then, but nothing's promised! **

**Have a sneak preview for the next chapter because it always takes me so long:**

_Mark assumed that his Coach would interrupt him but despite of his temper, he kept quiet, gave him the opportunity of an explanation. Nothing followed. Mark was starring at the floor, unable to look his coach in the eyes. _

_"Mark. You need to talk to me." _

_His voice was softer now, calmer, realising that the boy was too scared to speak. Too scared to win. _

_"I'm sorry." _

_"I know." _

_"I'm really sorry." _

_He gently squeezed his shoulder while the boy allowed his tears to express what he wasn't able to with words._

_I can't do this._


End file.
